Behind Closed Doors
by Jazz666
Summary: What goes on behind closed doors? There is so much more to Jon and Dany's love than what we see on screen. Picking up from S7xE7 and loosely following S8 (with lots of spoilers & some deviations from the canon). Rated M for lots of explicit sexual content (smut & fluff), dominance & submission, and some suggestions of violence.
1. Chapter 1 - The Dragon and the Wolf

He paused outside her door, trying to contain the tremble in his hand before knocking. He took a deep breath and thought back to earlier, when he had first awoken naked in his bed with her sitting by his side. The first thing he'd seen was her worried face, her cheeks still wet and glowing with tears as she gasped at the sight of his opening eyes.

"I thought I'd lost you," Daenerys had said to him. Her gaze had wandered over his tattered body and the scars that covered his chest, the scars that revealed exactly what Davos had meant when he said Jon took a knife in the heart for his people. She'd gripped his hand, relieved to see him alive and conscious. As they'd looked into each other's eyes, it was clear they were both thinking back to the moment she'd left him behind on the ice, surrounded by the army of the dead, sure to fall just as her dragon had fallen. And yet, there he was. Not only alive and with her, but ready to pledge himself to her, ready to call her his Queen.

Thinking back to this moment while standing outside of her door, he remembered the lust he'd seen in her eyes, even though he knew she'd tried to hide it. Finally, he steadied his hand and knocked. The door opened slowly and hesitantly, revealing her long silver hair, her delicate frame, and her surprised smile. He felt his knees weaken at the sight of her, and he knew right away that his face gave away his intentions. She stepped back to allow him into her private chamber, and he followed, closing the door without taking his eyes off of her.

No words were said. No words were needed. The moment the door closed behind them, he reached out to her waist, pulling her body close against his, their skin burning with anticipation. Her eyes flickered as they reflected the glow of the surrounding candles. Slowly but without hesitation, he lowered his lips to hers, leaving a paper-thin distance between their mouths, chests so close together that they could almost feel each other's heartbeats. Finally, their lips crashed together, and the desire that had been building up inside of both of them since the moment they met was finally released. It drove them both a little wild as they stumbled into the wall.

For a moment, he worried that he was being too aggressive. She was his Queen now, and he didn't want to offend her. But as he pinned her against the wall and began to explore her curves with his rough hands, she let out a quiet moan against his neck, and he felt her nails digging into his back, pulling him closer. He knew then that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Reassured by her eagerness, he lifted her up against the wall, gripping her ass cheeks in his hands and pressing the bulge in his pants between her legs. As she gasped for air, he whispered absentmindedly, "I need you, Dany." She wrapped her legs tightly around him and wound her fingers in his air, pulling his face back to hers so she could kiss him even more desperately than before. Finally, she pulled away and replied, "Take me, then."

Her words ignited a passion inside him as he carried her over to the bed, laying her down and hovering above her, pulling at the ties of her gown to reach the soft skin hiding underneath. She pulled at his clothes too, with an unreserved urgency he'd never seen in her before. Finally, they lay exposed to one another, and once again she stared in awe at his beautiful, scarred body. His mouth brushed against hers, not quite kissing her, lost in his desire for her. She noticed his vulnerability and smiled at him coyly. "Don't tease your Queen, Jon Snow," she whispered.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her confidently sarcastic tone. But he knew he could make her beg unironically. Slowly, he kissed from her neck to her collarbones to her soft breasts, lingering for a moment on her hard nipples, then down to her belly button and finally her inner thighs. She held her breath in anticipation as he kissed lightly across the lips of her cunt, not yet giving her his tongue, making her pussy ache with desire first. Finally, he slid his tongue up her slit, and immediately her back arched with pleasure. When he reached her clit, he stopped licking and began circling it with his tongue, savoring the animalistic sounds of lust that escaped her mouth as he spread her wide. He once again licked up and down her slit, watching her body twisting and contorting on the bed.

"You taste so good," he murmured against her clit before sucking it into his mouth and continuing to torture her with his tongue. He could feel her begin to lose control, gripping his dark curls with her fingers, and he knew this was the time to make her beg. He reached up to her face and slid his forefinger into her open mouth, and instantly she closed her lips around it, sucking until he could feel his cock get so hard that it almost hurt. But his cock would have to wait—he still had a job to do.

He removed his finger from her mouth and placed it against her opening, pausing to look up at her beautiful and desperate face. Finally, he pushed his forefinger, wet with her own saliva, deep into her pussy, and watched her eyes roll back with pleasure. "F-f-fuuuck," she moaned, "don't… stop…"

And he didn't. He added another finger and curled them upward, his mouth still locked on her swollen clit, making her shiver and groan with pleasure. He pumped his fingers in and out and up, tugging on the most sensitive spot in her dripping wet cunt, until finally he felt her walls tighten around his fingers. He wanted to tell her how badly he wanted to taste her cum, but he refused to remove his tongue from her clit until her orgasm finally rushed through her like a wave, leaving her flushed and sweating on the bed.

He made his way up her body with kisses as she basked in the afterglow of the most intense orgasm she could ever remember having. When he finally reached her mouth, she kissed him back slowly and sensually, rolling him over onto his back. Once again she took him in, gazing at his bare body and biting her lower lip in absentminded desire. Clearly, she was not yet satisfied, not even after the climax he'd just given her.

She reached down and gripped his throbbing cock in her hand. "Fuck," he whimpered. And then, "It's yours, my Queen. Do what you want with it." A playful grin came over her face as she straddled him, pausing with the tip of his cock touching the opening of her pussy before she finally caved in to her desire and lowered herself onto him. Both of their eyes closed as he slowly penetrated her, feeling his rock hard cock slide into her inch by inch until he completely filled her and they let out deep sighs in unison. He gripped her hips as she rocked back and forth on top of him, grinding against his groin, the warm liquid she'd released during her climax only moments before dripping all over him.

His heart racing, he rolled her back over onto her back, wanting nothing more than to fuck his new Queen senseless. Instead, he found the self control to pull away for a moment and hold her beautiful face in his hands. Seeing and feeling her there with him, fully exposed and connected to him as one flesh, felt like a surreal dream. She lifted her chin towards him as if impatiently begging to be kissed, and he obliged, tracing her tongue with his own. He felt her tighten as he thrust into her over and over again, deeper and deeper, gripping the headboard of the bed for stability as he began to tremble, close to orgasm.

"Are you about to explode?" she whispered seductively, looking up at him with a fire in her eyes.

"Is that... oh fuck... is that what you want?" he stammered, letting out a grunt of pleasure as he felt her cunt tighten around him. Was she going to cum again for him? With him? It felt like she was as close as he was, but he was so much more vulnerable, so out of control, helpless under her spell.

"It's what I need," she replied, speaking breathlessly against his lips. As he heard the words, he felt a heat rush through his body from head to toe and knew he was about to fill her with his seed. "Don't keep me waiting, Jon Snow." His vision went black as he felt himself explode inside of her, hearing her gasping along with him, thrusting her pulsing center towards him, pulling him deeper. "Fuck… just like that… fuck me just like that..." she whimpered, and he knew that the feeling of his hot cum inside of her had sent her over the edge. He pushed his cock deep into her one more time, and she let out a small scream before they collapsed into one another's arms, their vision blurry.

When he caught his breath, Jon pulled his lover on top of him lazily, letting her rest in his embrace. "I can't remember the last time I felt like this," she confessed. "I don't know if I've ever felt like this." This surprised him, but then again, she was usually so difficult to read. He felt strongly about her, too, but he figured she'd been lovestruck before. He knew she'd been married years ago.

As if she'd read his mind, she clarified, "My marriage to Khal Drogo feels like a lifetime ago. I was a different person then. I had no choice in marrying him, and even though I learned to love him, his death set me free in a way. I thought our son would be the stallion who mounted the world, but now my dragons are my children, the only children I will ever have..." She trailed off, gazing into the candlelight. Jon looked at her admiringly but couldn't find the right words to respond. Eventually, she noticed his silence and looked up at him, unable to read the expression on his face. "And you?" Daenerys asked. "Have you ever been with a queen before?"

He chuckled. "Men of the night's watch take a vow of celibacy."

She looked at him in confusion and slight disbelief. "You mean to tell me you've never been with a woman before?"

"Aye, of course I've been with a woman before," he admitted, a bit embarrassed. "A wildling woman north of the wall..." Jon stiffened for a moment before continuing, "...and she died in my arms." Daenerys could tell by his tone that he didn't like talking about it.

"I'm sorry," she said. "We've both loved and lost." Breaking their eye contact, she laid her head against his chest.

He nodded and pulled her closer. "Like you said, that was a lifetime ago. I'm here with you now. That's all that matters."

He heard the sleepiness in her voice as she repeated his words, "That's all that matters." Slowly, their eyelids became heavy and they drifted off into stillness, wrapped in each other's warm embrace as their ship sailed smoothly onward.


	2. Chapter 2 - Good Morning

Daenerys awoke to a faint tingling sensation between her legs. For a moment, she hovered between dreams and reality, unsure of her surroundings. Her body felt light, like she was descending through the air on Drogon's back, totally weightless. In her half-asleep confusion, she could have been anywhere, lost in a blissful daze. The heat between her legs gently pulled her back to consciousness until a sudden wave of pleasure jolted through her body. Her eyes flew open as her lover's rough but gentle fingers slid inside of her. Her hands found his thick black curls as he looked up at her. "You're awake," he said gruffly, staring up at her with raw adoration, squinting through the morning light.

Suddenly the memories of their night together came flooding back. She could remember the feeling of his tongue playing with her clit so vividly... because there he was again, torturing her wet cunt with his mouth and hands. She gripped the bedsheets tightly in her fists as he licked and sucked her throbbing clit. She wanted to get used to this, to him. No one had ever kissed her there so eagerly before.

She let out an whimper as he stroked the inside of her pussy with two fingers, bringing her to the brink of orgasm already. His free hand wandered up her side and to her breast, caressing her, tracing her soft curves as she began to grind her hips against his fingers and tongue. "Jon... I'm..." she moaned, her voice faint and desperate, "I'm... going to..." Before she could finish her sentence, pleasure flooded her body and she sank into the sheets.

When he finally pulled away, he looked up at her with a smug, playful grin. "You were saying...?" She giggled innocently, heavy with satisfaction. He crawled up the bed and leaned on his elbow beside her, cupping her face in one hand and guiding her gaze towards his. "Good morning, Your Grace," he said huskily.

She closed the narrow space between their lips and kissed him before pulling away to smile at him lovingly. "You know you don't have to call me that all the time," she said.

"Aye," he said, blushing slightly. "I know. You're just... beautiful." She looked away, flustered. _He may not be the best with words_, she thought, _but his mouth is talented in better ways._

"Thank you, Jon Snow," she replied quietly.

Their peace was disrupted by a knock on the door. Startled, Daenerys stood up and wrapped her winter robe around herself. Jon looked around nervously, unsure of whether or not he should move. "It's alright," she assured him, moving towards the door.

Missandei's voice came from the other side. "Pardon me, Your Grace." Daenerys opened the door at the sound of her friend's voice. Missandei stepped inside, glanced at Jon half-covered by a thin sheet, and quickly averted her eyes. "The morning meal is about to be served."

"Thank you, Missandei," Daenerys said warmly. They exchanged knowing looks, and Daenerys hoped she would have the chance to speak with her friend soon about the night**—**and morning**—**she'd just shared with Jon Snow. Missandei nodded and hurried out of the room, clearly wanting to give the two young lovers privacy. Daenerys began to wonder if their lovemaking had been loud enough to hear outside of her ship cabin walls. She looked back at Jon Snow, sitting on the bed looking slightly embarrassed after Missandei's brief interruption, and he seemed to have the same thought. "We have nothing to hide," Daenerys told him, moving back towards him and sitting on the edge of the bed. After all, before she even came to Westeros she'd expected she would eventually need to make an alliance through marriage... but she was getting ahead of herself. He looked doubtful. "What are you afraid of?" she asked.

He sat up to lean closer to her, brushing a strand of silver hair away from her face, but he hesitated before he spoke. "Northerners... are slow to trust newcomers. I don't want anyone to think... Ah, nevermind."

She pulled back, concerned. "Please, tell me," she said. "I should know what to expect before we arrive."

He sighed. "I don't want them to think I pledged my allegiance to you simply because of your beauty. There's so much more to you. You're unlike anyone I've ever known... more worthy than any leader I've ever seen... I want them to see you for everything you are." He paused, taking her hands in his. "My brother Robb was named King in the North long before me. He followed his heart instead of his head... and he was murdered for it. His bride and unborn child were slaughtered for it. The North was nearly destroyed for it. I can't... I can't put my people through that again."

She reached out to his stiff jaw, hoping her gentle touch would relieve some tension. "Jon, listen to me. I'm coming with you to _save_ the North. I don't want your people to suffer ever again... I don't want anyone in Westeros to suffer. That's why I'm here. This is my destiny." She rested her forehead against his, her violet eyes ablaze with hope. "This is _our_ destiny." He met her gaze, vibrant and pure, and their lips brushed together, sending chills down her spine. He reached out to her waist, pulling her towards him and onto his lap, holding her against him as he kissed her softly and slowly.

Suddenly, he pulled his face away from hers, sighing helplessly as he looked at her with admiration. "I love you, Dany," he confessed.

She rested her head against his once again, speaking breathlessly against his lips. "And I love you."

Their mouths collided in ecstasy, tongues dancing with one another, heartbeats quickening. As their kisses became more passionate and more desperate, Daenerys shrugged off her robe and pressed her wet opening against his hardening shaft. He reached down to stroke her lower lips and noticed that she was still slick with her own sweet nectar. Lust filled his body as he remembered how overwhelmed she had been by the orgasm he'd given her when she first awoke. He gripped her thighs, leaning forward until her back fell onto the bed, thrusting his cock deep inside of her before she even had the chance to orient herself. She let out a loud gasp, arching her back, feeling him fill her channel completely.

Watching her tremble with pleasure as he slid in out of her made his heart race even more. He stepped down off the side of the bed, still holding her pulsing core against his, unwilling to break their connection. She lay across the bed exposed, and as he gripped her ass with his hands, he spread her legs slightly wider before thrusting into her from a higher angle. Fucking her this way let him push his cock even deeper into her than before, feeling her cunt clench around him tightly, watching her quiver and moan on the bed in front of him. "Oh fuck, Dany," he sighed faintly. "You feel so good..."

Lost in his lust, he kneeled on the bed and began grinding his hips against hers. "I want your seed," she begged impatiently. Weakened by her deliciously obscene words, he lowered himself onto her properly, kissing her as he slid his throbbing cock in and out of her. "It's yours, my Queen," he replied, his voice so low and coarse that it sounded almost like a growl. Suddenly, she felt the warmth rushing out of him, filling her with his cum until it was spilling out of her.

He caught his breath, hovering over her delicate body for a moment before rolling onto the bed next to his lover. But when he looked over at her, her gaze seemed distant. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Did I not satisfy you?"

She smiled. Of course that was his first concern. "No, it's not that at all," she reassured him. "It's just that... I wish... I wish it were possible..." She struggled to find the words, but he made it clear that he understood as he reached down to touch her belly. He knew she believed her womb was barren, but he wasn't so sure.

"You brought dragons back into this world, and we're about to face the army of the dead. Anything is possible." They both smiled at his attempt to comfort her, but the atmosphere didn't feel any lighter as his mind lingered on the thought of her bearing their children. He'd never envisioned having a family of his own, but as he'd just pointed out, it felt like anything was possible now. He kissed her forehead gently. "If we can survive the Great War," he said, "we can do anything."

—


	3. Chapter 3 - Winterfell

When Daenerys decided to come up north, she knew it would be cold, but she still imagined a warmer welcome than the one she'd just received. Then again, Jon had warned her what the northerners would likely think of her. _Give it time_, he'd said. _They'll come to see you for what you are._ She longed to hear his reassuring words now.

As much as she craved his company, she was relieved to finally have a moment alone. All this diplomacy was exhausting. None of the smiles she had seen within the walls of Winterfell had felt genuine... except for Jon's. Even her own face felt sore from forcing so many empty, polite smiles.

Standing beside the fireplace for warmth, she loosened the ties on her winter cloak, letting it fall to the floor, leaving only her thin evening gown underneath. Sometimes she missed the heat of the desert. Even more, she missed the feeling of respect from those she ruled over and protected, but more than just respect... love. Admiration. Trust.

But she'd been through this kind of resistance before. So many people had underestimated her, rejected her, laughed in her face when she asked for what she wanted, what she deserved. She clung to the hope that the Northerners would be grateful when she saved them from the army of the dead... which would arrive any day now. _Am I naive for believing we'll survive? _she wondered anxiously. She had to survive... she knew that claiming the Iron Throne was her destiny, and now, she knew that loving Jon Snow was her destiny as well.

A knock on the door interrupted her train of thought. "Come in," she called. The old door creaked open, and Jon's face appeared out of the darkness of the hallway as if she'd summoned him simply by daydreaming of him. She smiled warmly, her shoulders dropping as she released the tension building up in her spine, relieved to see him. He looked as tired as she felt, so she gestured at the empty chairs beside the fire. "Will you sit with me?"

He obliged, and for a minute, they sat in silence, basking in each other's presence and the comforting glow of the fire. Jon was relieved not to have needed an excuse to visit her private chamber late at night. He wasn't sure what he would have said if she'd asked why he was there. Ever since the first night they were together on her ship, when he showed up at her door uninvited, there was no longer any explanation needed. He craved her, and she craved him.

"They don't like me," she finally said, breaking the silence. She turned to look at him, and he met her gaze, his brow furrowed as it almost always was. She treasured the moments when the muscles in his face relaxed and he looked truly happy, truly present. But now, of course, he was concerned over her insecurity. "None of them do," she continued. "I hope I can change their minds."

He reached for her hand. "You can. You will," he said. He sounded so sure of himself, so sure of her, and she desperately wanted to believe him. But he could still see a hint of doubt in her weary half-smile. He got out of his chair and knelt in front of her, holding both of her hands in his. It always pleased her to see him like this... quite literally bending the knee, ready to serve his Queen in any way she asked. He kissed her knuckles lightly, affectionately. "You'll be a good Queen," he said to her. "I know it. I've never been more certain of anything."

She gave his hands a loving squeeze and leaned down to kiss him. He kissed her back softly at first, but it didn't take long for their kiss to become more passionate. He let go of her hands as his touch wandered along her legs, up the skirt of her evening gown, all the way to her ass, which he pulled to the edge of the seat. She wrapped her legs around him eagerly, pressing her cunt against the bulge in his pants. A rush of desire overwhelmed him, and he lifted her up and carried her across the room to set her down on the windowsill's small stone ledge, where she sat at the perfect height for him to penetrate her. But he wasn't quite ready for that yet. First he kissed her deeply, pressing her back into the glass. Then he pulled away only slightly to say, "This is Winterfell, not the Queen's private ship transporting only your most trusted advisors. We're going to have to control ourselves."

She pulled off his shirt as she said, "I don't think I _can _control myself with you."

He sighed, pausing to lightly kiss her collarbones and neck before responding. "I want to make you scream, but I can't do that here. Someone would hear us."

"Let them hear us," she whispered seductively against his lips. "What did I tell you? We have nothing to hide... nothing to be ashamed of." She tugged him closer by the ties in his pants, loosening them, wanting nothing more than to expose the bulge that was suppressed under tight fabric. He groaned in defeat, kissing her hungrily, running his hands up her legs underneath her thin dress. He was tempted to fuck her wildly, loudly, with reckless abandon... but he'd heard the judgment in the Northerners' voices when he'd defended his Queen in front of them earlier, and many of those Northerners were sheltered within Winterfell's walls to protect them from the Night King's army. If the Starks' bannermen overheard their crazed lovemaking, they might doubt his reasons for bending the knee to her. His hand hesitated on her inner thigh, trying to contain his lust, trying to control his animalistic desire for her. Her tongue grazed his neck, tracing up to his ear, testing the limits of his restraint, torturing him.

"Dammit, woman," he said. "You always know how to get what you want." He inched his hand further up her thigh and started stroking up and down her slit slowly, lovingly, making her ache for more.

"Of course I do," she said in a quiet, coy tone. "I am your Queen, aren't I?" He cradled her neck with his free hand, pulling her face towards him so that he could feel her lips against his again. Their kisses were breathless and desperate. When he finally stepped out of his pants, exposing his hard cock for her, she grasped it tightly and began coaxing beads of precum out of its tip.

"Oh fuck... Dany..." he moaned, breaking away from their kiss to lean his forehead against her shoulder. He pushed two fingers into her suddenly, making her gasp, and began twisting his fingers inside of her, sending waves of pleasure up her spine. It was the first time anyone had done that to her, and the feeling of his fingers inside of her grew smoother and smoother as her pussy got wetter and wetter. Her grip on his shaft loosened as she leaned her head back onto the window behind her, arching her back. His hand wandered from her throat into her hair, weaving his fingers through her long silver hair like threads of moonlight.

Her chin tilted up at him, plush lips begging to be kissed. "I need you _now,_ Jon Snow," she whispered. His knees weakened at the sound of her voice so strained with lust. But he was quick to regain his balance to follow her orders and push his cock into her ever so slowly. A sigh escaped her lips that quickly turned into a high-pitched whimper of pleasure. Hearing the sounds of lust and satisfaction coming from his lover made him lose control for a moment and pull her hair aggressively, thrusting into her again, feeling her smooth skin sweat under his touch. The more he tugged on her hair, the more she arched her back, wordlessly inviting him to kiss her neck, exposing one of her breasts as the front of her loosened gown fell open. He'd loved fucking her under her clothes, but he longed to feel her curves completely now. Both of his hands moved quickly to the front of her gown, tugging and untying and nearly ripping it open until he could caress her bare body with his greedy hands. The fabric fell away, and he pulled her soft skin against his. With the thin layer gone, she shivered in the cold draft of the window. Feeling her chill under his rough hands, he lifted her into his arms again and carried her over to the bed, laying her down gently. To his surprise, she wrapped her legs around him and rolled them both over, mounting him like one of her dragons.

She began grinding slowly, deeply, deliberately on his cock like Doreah had shown her all those years ago before Daenerys knew how to please a man. She knew now. And she knew how to please herself too. She dragged her nails down his chest as pleasure overwhelmed her senses, and he winced at the pain but thrusted deep into her, enjoying the shocking sensation of pain. He felt her cunt tighten around his cock as he thrusted, and he found a rhythm, holding her back to support her weight as she leaned back in total bliss. He watched her eyes roll back into her head as an orgasm rolled through her body, and she finally collapsed on top of him, fully satiated.

He loved seeing her like this—vulnerable, happy. He carefully slid out from underneath her limp body, and she looked up at him with a hazy glow in her eyes. His cock was still throbbing, and seeing her lay across the bed on her stomach made him want to be inside her again. He placed a hand on one of her ass cheeks, and she raised herself onto her knees. "You want me like this?" she asked. He hesitated with the tip of his cock resting on her lower lips. He leaned forward until she could hear his desperate, uneven breathing in her ear. "It's okay," she said. "I want to know what you feel like from behind." She pushed her hips backwards, forcing his cock deep into her, savoring the low moan that escaped her lover's lips. She began rocking her hips back and forth, pumping his cock until she could feel it fill with his seed.

"Don't hold back," she whispered. Just as she'd commanded, he kneeled upright, fucking her harder than he'd ever dared before. She clutched the bedsheets in her fists, losing control just as he was, climaxing again on his cock. "And don't... don't fucking stop..." Her plea sent him over the edge and he filled her with his seed. They caught their breath together for a moment, and when he finally pulled away, he saw his translucent cum dripping down her leg.

He pulled a blanket over them both, wanting to shield her from the harsh winter air that somehow found its way inside through cracks in the stone walls. "I didn't know you would like that," he said absentmindedly.

She blushed and rested her head on his chest. "You don't always have to be gentle with me," she said. "I'm stronger than you think."

He chuckled. "I think you're pretty strong."

_Yes, of course you do_, she thought. _Otherwise you wouldn't have bent the knee. _There was no point verbalizing these thoughts, and her mind continued to wander, thinking back to the moment when he first called her his Queen. Now whenever she was his arms, it didn't matter what anyone else in Westeros thought of her. With him, she had everything she'd been missing earlier, not only respect but also love. Admiration. Trust.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Waterfall

Daenerys admired the ice-kissed landscape with a childlike wonder in her eyes. "We could stay a thousand years," she said with a smile that brought out the slight dimples in her cheeks. "No one would find us." The cascades raging loudly behind her were beautiful, but not as beautiful as her, not to him.

"We'd be pretty old," Jon said. She smiled at him, amused, and moved towards him. He closed the distance between them, his heart still racing from the thrill of riding a dragon for the first time only minutes earlier. _They say only a Targaryen can ride a dragon_, he thought. And yet, he had done it... and it had felt right. "It's cold up here for a Southern girl," he teased when she finally reached his side.

"So keep your Queen warm," she replied in a smug tone. He pulled her close to him by her waist and kissed her obediently, unable to resist her charm, until he heard the dragons snarl behind him. Startled, he pulled away, and she shot him a coy smile. "Don't be afraid," she teased him, tugging on his thick fur cloak to pull his mouth back to hers.

But his mind still lingered on the dragons watching them. He glanced over his lover's shoulder to see their beating eyes fixated on him like a warning. He often wondered how much the dragons understood of their mother's complicated life. _Do they know that I love her? That I would never hurt her? That if I rip her clothes off and pin her body to the ground, it's only because I want to fuck her, not attack her? _He could only hope. He wanted to take advantage of their solitude and fuck her right there in the open, on the pure white snow, letting her scream as loud as she wanted for once.

He pulled away and gave her a playful look, then turned towards the waterfalls and started walking towards them. Curious, she followed him. Once they reached a ledge close to the rushing water and far enough away from the dragons for Jon's comfort, he stopped, turned back towards his lover, and pulled off his gloves wordlessly. She moved closer to him expectantly.

As soon as she was within his reach, he pushed her up against one of the snow-dusted boulders behind them and kissed her deeply without holding back. Her hands wandered under his cloak, struggling to find her way to him through so many layers of clothing, knowing that neither of them could be fully exposed out here in the cold winter wind. Noticing her urgency, he lifted her legs off of the ground and knelt down before her, pulling off her undermost layers of clothing with ease, resting her thighs on his shoulders as he kissed his way up to her clit. She leaned back onto the rock, shivering, knotting her pale hands into his thick black curls and holding his face against to her cunt.

When he heard the sighs of pleasure escaping her, he pulled her off of the rock she'd rested on, laying down on the snow and guiding her down to fall gently on top of him, making her gasp in surprise. But as he held her up over his face and continued to lick her cunt hungrily, he felt her tremble in pure bliss. He'd never had her sit on his face before, but she was clearly loving every second of it as she began absentmindedly grinding her clit against his mouth. Was she going to scream for him? They were finally truly alone, too far from Winterfell for anyone to hear her cries of pleasure.

As he sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking and circling and caressing it with his curious tongue, he finally heard her start to lose control. "F-f-fuuuck..." she moaned loudly. "Oh Jon... your mouth feels s-so... so fucking good..." He smiled when he heard her filthy words, sliding one hand from where it held up her inner thigh to push his cold fingers upward into her dripping wet cunt. And then there it was... the scream he'd been waiting for. His fingers stroked the most sensitive spot inside of her cunt as he felt tighten around his fingers, shaking as she climaxed on top of him.

When she'd finished, he sat up, and she slid down into his lap. She panted in the afterglow of her orgasm, trying to catch her breath. He loved to see her this way and kissed her forehead affectionately. "I love you, Dany," he said.

She leaned into him, warming herself in the heavy furs draped around his shoulders. "I know," she replied, smug as he'd just spoiled her with pleasure. And then, in a more serious voice, "I love you too, Jon Snow. I don't ever want to leave this place."

Her words sounded so familiar. A pang of guilt twisted in his heart as he was reminded of the cave he'd found with his first love, Ygritte, years ago. Even though he'd known they could never truly be together, it had destroyed him to lose her, to hold her in his arms as she'd drawn her last breath, to watch her body burn in the pyre he'd built for her. He didn't want to remember it now as he held Dany close, but the memory ignited a fear inside of him as he thought of losing his new lover. He'd been through so much pain since he'd loved Ygritte, and sometimes he thought of himself as a new man after the Red Woman had brought him back to life at Castle Black.

Still, he didn't want to feel the grief of losing a lover ever again. He knew he had to do whatever it took to keep Daenerys safe, to serve her and protect her, to help her fulfill her destiny. He gave her a gentle, loving squeeze as he thought of their future together, full of possibility and hope. If he had to see her die, he wanted it to be at the end of a long life together, at a natural old age, their minds full of joyful memories. As unlikely as happiness seemed in this fucked up world, he knew that he belonged with her. Holding her like this felt so right, and he never wanted to let go.


	5. Chapter 5 - After the Battle

His head ached with the sounds of battle, the screams of soldiers, the shrieks of the dead. Catching his breath, he sheathed his sword and fell to his knees, taking in the sight of the carnage around him. _How did we survive?_ _How did we defeat the Night King? _For a moment, he simply stared at the Viserion's crumbled body in front of him. Only it wasn't Viserion, not anymore. It was the Night King's beast. And now... just another corpse.

It was far from his first battle, but his hands still trembled out of shock. The battle against the dead was unlike any other battle he'd ever survived, and the sound of his own heart pounding in his head was deafening. He slowly made his way through the wreckage of the courtyard, stepping over countless bodies and finally stopping at the castle's gates, where he stared out into the void, the first hint of dawn's light peeking over the distant horizon.

A familiar voice behind him called out his name, startling him in the hushed stillness that rested over all of the Winterfell. He turned around to see Arya, standing beside Bran... both alive. It was a miracle. She ran towards him, relieved to find his arms in a tight embrace. She smelled of sweat and blood and death, as did he. When they let each other go, he looked down at her with pride. The small girl he'd grown up with had somehow survived the Great War. But why was she with Bran? How had they escaped the Night King before Jon was able to reach the Godswood to save Bran?

"It was me, Jon," Arya said. Confused, Jon looked to Bran, who nodded knowingly, and then back at his sister... no, his cousin. The truth of his parentage still hadn't sunk in. _But Arya will always be a sister to me_, he thought.

"What do you mean, it was you?" he asked.

"I killed the Night King," Arya said in a straightforward tone. She wasn't boasting or even smiling... he could see in her eyes that she didn't expect any honor or reward for what she'd done.

Jon stepped back in disbelief. He never would have thought it would be little Arya who brought the dawn after the long night. The girl he'd known as a small, unruly child was now the savior of all the living. He placed a hand on her shoulder, speechless. She looked exhausted yet somehow unfazed by the nightmare she had just witnessed... the nightmare she'd saved them all from. "Get some rest, brother," she said to him, turning back towards Bran and wheeling him into the castle.

Still amazed by Arya's news, Jon turned back to the battlefield, littered with the bodies of wights and fallen soldiers. He stared out into the debris until a figure emerged from the darkness. His heartbeat quickened again as he recognized her silver hair, illuminated by dawn's faint light. He moved towards her, noticing her unsteady pace, letting her collapse into his protective arms as soon as she reached him. They said nothing as he held her tightly for a moment. Her breath was short and anxious, and his hand trembled in her hair as he held her head against his chest.

In that moment, they could have been the last two human beings left alive for all they knew. Nothing else mattered but the fact that they were both safe in each other's arms. Not the secret of his parentage that he'd shared with her before the battle, not the threat of Cersei waiting for them in King's Landing, not the stench of death that surrounded them. His arms shielded her from the world, and everything else melted away.

When her breathing finally slowed, he pulled away, gently stroking her tear-stained cheek with his thumb. Her violet eyes were filled with grief, gazing up at him as if she wasn't quite sure whether or not she'd died and found her lover in the afterlife. But Jon already knew there was nothing but darkness waiting for them when their eyes closed for the last time. This knowledge was comforting to him, and he often wished he'd stayed asleep forever after the men of the Night's Watch had stabbed him. But then he never would have met Daenerys, he never would have fought alongside her in the Great War, and he never would have defended the realm of the living from the army of the dead.

He kissed her forehead lightly and took her hand to lead her back towards the castle. Instead of bringing her back to her private chamber, he brought her to his. It wasn't where he'd stayed when he was a child but instead one of the few rooms in Winterfell with access to water from the hot springs underneath the castle.

He let the water flow into the stone tub, embedded into the floor, and slowly removed both of their clothes. Her gaze wandered distantly as if her soul had been left outside on the battlefield. Jon stepped into the water and tugged on her hand, encouraging her to join him. The water burned his wounded skin, but he knew they would both feel better when they were clean. She hesitated outside of the water, still trembling slightly, processing the carnage she'd just witnessed... the carnage she'd just experienced.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Dany, please," he said. "Come here. You'll feel better." Her gaze returned to him, and she smiled weakly before finally lowering her body into the water, wincing as the heat soothed her sore muscles and joints. He wrapped his arms around her and held her buoyant body up in the water, leaning her head against his chest and stroking her hair to comfort her. "You're okay," he whispered. "It's alright. We survived."

Daenerys was no stranger to war or bloodshed, but this was different. He felt her tears fall onto his chest as she finally let her emotions flow freely. He began carefully undoing her braids and letting her hair down, pouring warm water over her scalp with cupped hands and combing through her tangled locks with his fingers. She sighed, comforted by his touch, feeling the dirt and ash and blood in her hair wash away.

They lay together in the water for what could have been hours, holding each other, cleaning each other. Jon knew there would be a time for gathering the corpses outside and burning the bodies. And then there would be a time to celebrate their miraculous victory. But for now, he was exhausted, filthy, emotionally raw. Although they rested and healed in one another's company now, he'd still barely talked to Dany since telling her the truth he'd just discovered about his parents, Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, the truth she didn't want to believe. _If it were true_, she'd said to him, _it would make you the last male heir of House Targaryen_. He knew she'd seen it as a threat to her claim to the Iron Throne, but it meant so much more than that for him... It meant he could no longer make love to her, even though he knew his heart would always belong to her.

_Could it just be like this between us? _he wondered as he held her naked body against his. _Could I love her without fucking her? _Of course he could. He'd taken a vow of celibacy before when he'd joined the Night's Watch. He could take that vow again and devote himself completely to her without ever making love to her again... and he'd probably have to watch her marry someone else. The thought stung. Of course he could... but he didn't want to. And he knew she didn't want him to either.

He sure as hell didn't want to talk about it now, and he was relieved that she didn't bring it up. Even Daenerys, who always seemed to have the energy for sex, was too tired to tempt him after the battle they'd just won. They sat mostly in silence as they bathed together, washing each other's wounds and soothing each other's souls. Jon loved that he didn't need always need words to express his love for her. She was content to simply enjoy his company without any eloquent speeches.

When they finally finished soaking in the hot, mineral-thick water, he lifted her in his arms and carried her over to his bed. He laid her down gently and brushed wet strands of hair out of her face. "We did it, my love," he said in a low voice, leaning his forehead against hers affectionately. The smile she offered in response cracked just a little as she tried to contain the grief that hid underneath her joy. He knew he couldn't fix her pain since he felt it too. Instead, he simply placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and crawled into bed beside her, holding her tightly in his arms as they both tried to block out flashbacks from the battle long enough to drift asleep.


	6. Chapter 6 - Are You Drunk?

"Are you drunk?"

Her voice startled him, and he looked back to see that she had entered the room without knocking. He had been lost in thought, staring into the flames of his private hearth, exhausted. When he looked at her, his face betrayed nothing, and she could not tell whether or not he was pleased to see her. She thought back to the way he had smiled during the feast, surrounded by men who praised him like a god. He did not smile now.

"No," he replied. He stood and turned towards her, stumbling a bit but finding his balance quickly. "Only a little," he corrected himself. "I didn't know Ser Jorah well, but I know this. If he could have chosen a way to die, it would have been protecting you."

"He loved me," she said. Jon nodded grimly, as Jorah's love for Daenerys was no secret. "And I couldn't love him back, not the way he wanted." She moved towards him hesitantly. "Not the way I love you." Her eyes glistened in the warm glow of the fireplace as she gazed up at him vulnerably. He reached out and held her gently by the waist. "Is that alright?" she whispered.

His mind was hazy, and he couldn't find the words to reply. Instead, he leaned towards her, pressing familiar lips together. She kissed him back eagerly as he backed her up against the table. Their kisses quickly became breathless, and their hands rushed clumsily to untie the outer layers of each other's clothing. For a moment, she forgot her loneliness, her paranoia about his claim to the throne, her jealousy about the way everyone in Westeros admired him. All of it faded away as he pinned her against the table and she felt the bulge in his pants press against her inner thigh.

But suddenly, he stopped and pulled away, coming to his senses, conflicted. He glanced at her shamefully and then turned away, pacing across the room so he wouldn't be tempted to rip all of her clothes off and fuck her madly right then and there.

Her heart sank. "I wish you'd never told me," she said. "If I didn't know, I'd be happy right now." She sat down on the edge of his bed. "I tried to forget. Tonight I did for a while, and then... I saw them gathered around you. I saw the way they looked at you. So many people have looked at me that way but never here. Never on this side of the sea."

"I told you, I don't want it," he said, shaking his head, lost, still facing away from her.

"It doesn't matter what you want," she said, raising her voice. He finally turned to meet her gaze and saw the fire in her eyes. "You didn't want to be King in the North. What happens when they demand you press your claim and take what is mine?"

He knelt in front of her, placing a reassuring hand on her leg. "Then I'll refuse," he said. "You are my Queen. I don't know what else I can say."

She took his face in her hands, her eyes wild and desperate. "You can say nothing, to anyone, ever. Never tell them who you really are. Swear your brother and Samwell Tarly to secrecy and tell no one else." Jon pulled away from her, taken aback by her tone. "Or you won't be able to control it or what it does to people," she continued, "no matter how many times you bend the knee. No matter what you swear." They were standing now. Tears welled in her eyes as she took his hand in hers. "I want it to be the way it was between us," she pleaded.

Her words stung. He still loved her and craved her and longed for a future by her side, but the guilt when he kissed her was too much to bear. Perhaps he was doomed to the same fate as Ser Jorah... loving her from afar, fighting her battles, protecting her until death, but never feeling the comfort of her touch.

He cradled her face in his hands, tracing her cheekbone gently with his thumb. "I have to tell Sansa and Arya," he said.

Daenerys sighed, exasperated by his stubbornness. "Sansa will want to see me gone and you on the Iron Throne."

"She won't."

"She's not the girl you grew up with," Daenerys told him. "Not after what she's seen. Not after what they've done to her."

"I owe them the truth," Jon said.

"Even if the truth destroys us?"

"It won't."

"It will," she insisted. She clung to his arms, holding him tightly against her. "I've never begged for anything, but I'm begging you... don't do this." The desperation in her voice tugged at his heart. He wanted nothing more than to please his Queen... but how? How could he please her and still do what he knew was right?

She noticed the flicker of doubt in his eyes and seized the opportunity to kiss him, slowly and carefully, knowing that the bond between them was at its most fragile now. He started to kiss her back, but she felt his hesitation. And then he pulled his lips away from her yet again, resting his forehead against hers, sighing helplessly.

"It's wrong, Dany," he whispered, his voice strained, his tone uncertain.

"It can't be wrong," she replied, brushing her lips against his as she spoke. "It can't be."

Tears stung his eyes. "Don't torture me," he begged her. "You know I love you. I will always love you." He broke away from her embrace and sat on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands.

"Then be with me," she responded, kneeling before him and taking his hands in hers. "If I am your Queen, then be my King. We can save the Seven Kingdoms... together." His tears began to fall silently. He longed for the future she described. He could picture it so clearly... Her as a just and fair ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and him by her side, fighting for her as she had fought for him in the Great War. Marrying her and loving her til the end of his days. And it could have been that way... if only he'd been a Stark, or even a Snow, but not a Targaryen.

"You know I can't," he said, meeting her gaze with a pained squint. "Now that I know the truth... Now that we both know the truth... We would be no better than the Lannisters."

The comparison disgusted her, but she maintained her resolve. She could make him understand. She had to. With her fingertip under his bearded chin, she lifted his gaze to follow her as she stood. Old words returned to her tongue... words she had only ever spoken in Dothraki. "Blood of my blood," she said quietly, knowing that he would not truly understand what it meant to her.

The ties on her gown were already loosened from when he had kissed her freely earlier. She undid them completely now, letting the fabric fall to the floor, watching his eyes trace her body longingly.

"You are a Targaryen," she continued. He flinched at the name, but she moved closer with confidence. "My family... _our family_... wed each other for centuries to keep the bloodline pure." His brow furrowed disapprovingly, but when she lowered herself onto his lap, straddling him, his familiar hands found her ass cheeks and gripped tightly. Her fingers wound into his thick black hair, tilting his head back as she spoke. "I can't bear children. Bloodlines don't concern me. But this is who we are. This is the sin we were born with. Both of us. Why lie to yourself?"

Her bare breasts were dangerously close to his lips now, but he dared not kiss them. Her gaze burned through him, angry and desperate and full of lust all at once. "So tell me, Jon Snow. Are you the true born son of Rhaegar Targaryen, with the blood of the dragon running through your veins? Or are you just a Northern bastard who's forgotten his place?"

Her words ignited a fire within him, a mixture of anger and disgust and guilt and fierce arousal that he felt deep in his gut. With a hard tug, still gripping her ass in his hands, he pulled her body close against his. She felt his cock harden underneath her, a hungry growl escaping his lips as they brushed against hers. He was just as much wolf as he was dragon, after all.

She nipped at his lower lip playfully, enjoying the way he struggled to contain his lust and his rage, his hands moving up her spine now, dragging his nails across her skin. The sensation made her back arch, and his lips grazed her nipple torturously. Her fingers still wound tightly in his curls, she leaned her head back, pushing her breasts up against his mouth. He kissed them obediently, his tongue then wandering up her chest, over her collarbones, up her throat, and stopping at her chin. She lowered her face to his again, letting go of his hair and moving her hands down to his shirt, which she removed swiftly. He offered no resistance.

Her hands ran down from his shoulders over his bare chest, then up again as she slowly pushed him back to lie down on the bed. His breath quickened, absentmindedly lifting his hips to press his hard manhood against her wet opening, though a thin layer of fabric still separated them. A smirk crept across her lips as she leaned down over him. She paused with her mouth barely an inch away from his, whispering, "Don't worry, Jon Snow, I'll only fuck you if you beg me to."

"Oh gods..." he groaned as she kissed down his neck seductively. His eyes closed, and he felt her tug on the top of his pants with her teeth.

"What do you want?" she whispered smugly, holding his bulge tightly in her hand, precum leaking through the fabric.

"Please... Dany..." he moaned, his hand finding her long silver hair and pulling her face towards his groin. She slid off his pants and tossed them aside, exposing his erection. She had never been the one on her knees with him before, never the one to do the licking, but now she wanted to control him completely. She grasped the base of his cock with her hand.

"Look at me," she commanded. His eyes flew open, and he propped himself up on his elbows to watch her. Holding his gaze, she traced the length of his manhood with her tongue from base to tip. He gasped with pleasure as she continued to tease him. Finally, she closed her lips around the tip of his cock and sucked until he filled her mouth completely.

"Fuuuuuuuuck," he whimpered, falling back onto the bed again, helpless. He pulled her hair as she slid his throbbing cock in and out of her mouth, coating it with her warm saliva. "Oh gods... Dany... please..."

She sucked hard, feeling his body twitch beneath her, before releasing his manhood and crawling back onto the bed to hover over him. "Please what?" she asked, eager to hear him finally admit how badly he wanted her.

The fire she'd ignited earlier returned to his eyes as he looked up at her, lips dripping wet with the spit she'd spread all over his cock. He finally gave in to temptation and kissed her aggressively, but this time she was the one to pull away. "I told you, bastard," she teased him harshly, her warm opening poised right over his dripping wet cock, "you have to beg me."

She held his wrists in her hands, pinning them against the bed. He could have easily overpowered her, but he didn't. He was helpless under her spell, submitting completely to her will. With each time she teased him, even insulted him, she watched the fury in his eyes turn into uncontrollable lust. "Please..." he whispered weakly. "Please, Dany..."

"Not good enough," she replied coldly. She began to slide away from his cock, and his hands clenched into fists.

"No, Dany, please... Fuck me," he begged. _Finally,_ she thought triumphantly. "I need you to fuck me," he continued, surrendering completely, "Please... my Queen... my cock is yours..."

And with that, she released his wrists from her grip and lowered herself onto him. They sighed in unison as he slowly penetrated her. With his hands now free, he grabbed her hips and guided them back and forth as she began grinding on top of him and he thrust deeply into her.

It didn't take long before he was trembling with pleasure. She'd already brought him so close to the edge with her mouth. She clenched the walls of her cunt around his cock as she felt it fill with seed. "F-f-f-fuuuuuck," he whimpered. "You're going to make me cum..."

She slowed her grinding and leaned down to kiss her lover deeply. Then, pulling back only slightly, she said in a mischievous voice, "Did I give you permission to cum, bastard?"

He gripped the bedsheets in his fists, his eyes rolling back into his head, sweating. "Oh gods, Dany, please," he moaned. "Please, my Queen... Let me fill you with my cum... Fuck..."

She loved hearing him beg.

She slid off his cock and knelt on her hands and knees, her pussy wet and waiting. "This is how you'll fill me up," she commanded. "Fuck me like this, and don't be gentle."

He didn't hesitate.

He fucked her hard from behind, digging his nails into her skin until small beads of blood rolled down her creamy pale skin. But still he did not stop, losing control as the orgasm began to roll through him like a wave. She bit the pillow to stop herself from screaming out in pleasure as he finally exploded inside of her.

He collapsed on the bed, emotionally and physically exhausted, wrapping his arms around her. It felt so right. After only a brief moment, his fingers found her clitoris, still aching with desire, and began stroking her. "I didn't satisfy you yet," he whispered sweetly against her neck.

"Mmm," she responded faintly. He massaged her swollen nub until she squirmed in his arms, and then he pulled his hand away and rolled her over onto her back. He kissed her inner thighs lightly until she lifted her hips towards his face desperately.

He hesitated with his mouth over her clit. "May I?"

"Oh, _fuck_ yes," she moaned. "Lick me clean." Obediently, he pressed his tongue flat against her clitoris and dragged it up and down until she was shaking. He seemed to love following her orders tonight.

His hands spread her legs wide, his thumbs tracing the edges of her lower lips until they ached. And then, as he sucked and flicked her clit hungrily with his tongue, he slid two fingers into her, twisting and tugging until he felt her pussy tighten around his hand. Pleasure flooded through her body as her back arched and her chest flushed a bright red.

When he released her, she reached for his hand, pulling him up onto the bed beside her. He slumped against her, resting his cheek on her breast. "I hope I wasn't too rough with you, my love," she said, stroking his hair lovingly.

_"No,"_ he responded, his voice nearly a growl again. He nipped at her earlobe playfully. "I needed that."

She giggled. "I love you, Jon," she said softly, abandoning the harsh tone she had used while seducing him. He looked up at her with pure adoration. Tonight, he'd given himself to her completely, abandoned both his shame and his pride, and let her take control. She wondered how long it would last, how long before he felt guilty about their love again, how long before he was tempted to betray her.

But then he pressed his lips against hers gently, silencing her doubts. "And I love you. You are my Queen. Nothing will change that."


End file.
